


Return to Sender

by FancyPantsu



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Faux Courier, Game Appropriate Violence, Gray ace Vulpes, Slow Burn, Some indirect references to the way the Legion treats women which is to say terrible, The Legion is terrible, The main character is safe from the worst of the Legion's actions however, Though tagged as the Courier this is a different Courier, Vulpes Inculta is an awful human but he's not quite as bad in this, Vulpes learns how not to be a terrible human, it'll make sense I promise, references to slavery, villain fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyPantsu/pseuds/FancyPantsu
Summary: While resting between jobs, Courier Twenty-nine befriends Mr. Fox, a seemingly charming (if a bit surly) resident. After protecting him from a deathclaw, she learns he's secretly a member of the Legion and takes it upon herself to track him across the Mojave. When his group is attacked and murdered by fiends, Twenty-nine once again saves his sorry hide, earning his begrudging respect.But Twenty-nine has secrets of her own, and Vulpes is intent on learning where she came from and what she's truly after.
Relationships: Female Courier/Vulpes Inculta
Comments: 19
Kudos: 31





	1. Less is More

Vulpes Inculta stared into the eye of a young but sturdy deathclaw, separated from instant death by the meager trappings of a rusted-out, pre-war truck. Dressed in his best and most civilized corporate outfit, he was ill-suited for this battle. Deathclaws tended to shy away from heavily populated areas but recent marching armies pushed them further back…or forward, in this case, likely separated from its pack and agitated beyond reason.

To Vulpes’ right, the sometimes-courier squatted, clutching her laser rifle, jaw set, eyes intense. She was not THE courier for whom he searched, so she was, by all accounts, expendable. Especially considering he hadn’t brought more than a .45, thinking this jaunt little more than an exercise in curiosity. 

“Just…stay put,” she said, and held up a hand. “I’m going to go out there and…” she hesitated, swallowing, and as if on cue, one massive claw took a swipe at the truck’s underside, rocking it. “I’m going to end it.”

He grabbed her arm and shook his head. “That thing will eat you in one bite. Let’s just stay quiet and maybe it will abandon its quest.”

“Are you kidding me?” She turned to him, eyes filled with fear and resolution. Flattering, really, that she hoped to save him. “Listen, you hired me to protect you, and that’s what I’m going to do.” She nodded to herself. “That’s what I’m going to do,” she repeated more quietly.

He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head. “I have a trick or two left. Listen, Mr. Fox, if it does eat me, I want you to know I…well, I had a swell time getting to know you, OK?” Her lips curled into a nervous little smile.

Vulpes stared. They’d chatted in a bar a few times, and on the street once, where he learned she’d been a courier but also took up protection work on the side. She gave information freely, about the sights she’d seen in her travels, some colorful characters she met, and the best way to increase a laser rifle’s efficiency by 5%. Very handy.

He didn’t know what to say. Useful and expendable.

After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him forward, pressing her lips to his, eyes closed.

His own eyes widened but she broke it off before he even had a chance to react. With that, she let out a shriek and darted out from the truck’s safety, bellowing obscenities at the deathclaw, who promptly made her his sole attention.

He’d seen grown, seasoned legionaries balk at deathclaws, so this was…this was new. He felt slightly impressed.

Green light flickered and Vulpes quickly moved forward to get a better view; she peppered the beast with blasts from a small plasma handgun as she scurried backwards.

And then the deathclaw, so much more clever than any mere animal, whipped its tail forward, hitting her in the side and sending her flailing onto her back. The gun flew from her hands, and she rolled once, twice, avoiding a succession of deadly swipes.

Vulpes gripped the window, almost cutting his hands on the rusty edges as he watched with unabashed interest. Finally, the not-courier (Part-time courier? Did it even matter what he referred to a profligate as?) wrapped scrabbling fingers around the handle and brought it up to fire on the deathclaw’s head just as it bore down on her.

Green goo spluttered everywhere in a violent explosion, coating her, mixing with the blood on the ground. Blood?

With the beast’s headless body slumped over the not-courier, Vulpes felt confident to leave the safety of the truck and approach. He grunted, leaning his weight against the heavy bulk to push it aside and off.

She did not move.

He squatted down and put a finger to her throat. Good, a pulse. Not good, a large slice on her arm that curved around to her back where the deathclaw gave one last attack. She’d turned, trying to avoid it to no avail and likely hit her head on the hard dirt in the process.

Vulpes bandaged it as best he could with what little resources he had. He should just leave it at that, leave her there. She’d served her purpose. If she died, she died honorably, having most likely saved his life. Even degenerates could have honor, it would seem. She’d held up her end of the bargain and then some, so maybe….

Besides, she could prove useful later. His eyes fell on the unusual plasma gun. That would be a question for later. He clenched his jaw and let out a long, slow sigh, looking over to New Vegas’ lights blazing in the distance. It would be a long walk.

> > >

Something cool rested on her brow. Unconsciousness slowly pulled from her brain like spiderwebs. Was she in a cave? Why was it dark? No, a room. There was a door, illuminated by some light beyond.

“Lay back down,” came a familiar voice as she sat up. White bandages, tinged with red, lined her right shoulder and wrapped around her upper torso. Where was her armor? Her shirt?

“What-” she began and a hand clasped her shoulder, pushing her gently back down.

Mr. Fox’s face peered down at her; he wasn’t wearing that ridiculously tall hat. “You have a mild concussion and a slight infection. The deathclaw’s blood spilled onto your wound.”

“Oh,” she said, putting a hand to her forehead, resting on the damp cloth there. She almost slipped back to sleep when one thought shot through her slogging brain like a bullet: “Where are my clothes?!”

“You’re wearing pants, and your shirt was destroyed. Don’t worry, I didn’t look at your chest. At least, not the way you’re thinking,” he said, voice curt.

It was the truth, though. He tended her as he would a soldier, taking no special time wiping off blood or bandaging. He watched her expression relax as she nodded.

“Thanks. Did you…how did I get here? Where are we?”

“We’re at the Medical Clinic. The doctor was out but they let me use the facilities.” He gestured around the room. “And,” he continued, “I received very little help from the doctor-in-training. He fainted twice at the sight of your blood.” Vulpes rolled his eyes. “He won’t do well in his chosen vocation. I knew more about sutures.”

“You picked up a few tricks in your travels.”

“I did,” he agreed.

“But you didn’t tell me how….?”

His lips quirked and he couldn’t wait to see her expression. “I carried you.”

Her gaze shot over to him, startled. There it was. “You what? Carried me? The whole way?” Her voice lilted at the end, incredulous.

He nodded.

Her head sank into the pillow and she groaned. “I owe you, don’t I?”

“Not really. You saved me, I saved you, we’re about even. Maybe a little more in your favor because you might have survived and crawled your way back to New Vegas.”

“I’m impressed, Mr. Fox.” She smiled a little in his direction.

“So am I, and I don’t impress easily. A deathclaw…” he shook his head. “You could’ve shoved me out of the truck for it to munch on while you got away.”

“Now why would I do that? I gave you my word I’d protect you,” she grimaced, sitting up, “and besides, what kind of a person would leave you there to die?”

“Most people, my dear. Most people. Careful, there,” he stood, then dragged the chair next to the bed. He placed a hand square on her back, just next to the bulk of the wound, and she stiffened. “How does it feel? I should change the bandage.”

“Hurts a little but not as much as I thought it might. Really got me good, huh?”

“Yes, it did.” He carefully unwound the wrapping, handing it forward for her so he wouldn’t have to reach around. “Ah!” he said brightly, “it looks much better. They certainly do have fine tools here. Move around a little.”

She obeyed, wriggling her shoulders and turning her torso. “Little stiff, still pulls.”

“It will loosen up in time. The claw cut right to your shoulder scapula. You are lucky it didn’t sever a major artery or your spine.”

“I’ll try to keep my deathclaw adventures to a minimum,” she grinned at him over her shoulder. “If it’s just the same.”

“Of course.” He placed two fingers on the miniscule tattoo between her shoulder blades. “I have a question.”

“O-oh? What about?” The nervous quaver in her voice betrayed her as she looked straight ahead. The medical posters were suddenly very interesting.

“This,” he said, slowly tracing a finger over one sideways V, then the other.

< >

“Is it…two mouths?”

“No, it’s….mathematical symbols. For less than and more than.”

“Ah, I see, now. May I ask why?” His fingers continued to trace back and forth and she found it very distracting, as he’d hoped.

“Oh, well, you know,” she said, waving a hand dismissively, “got drunk one night and lost a bet and here we are!”

He tried to keep the grin out of his voice. “That so? You told me you rarely drink.”

“And that’s the very reason why.”

“So, can I call you Less More?”

“Ha haaaaa, absolutely not,” she said.

“You know I don’t believe your story, right?”

“Why not? It’s plausible. Besides, what’s got you so curious about it?” She said, looking at him over her shoulder.

He shrugged and patted her unwounded shoulder blade. “I am a curious man.”

“Well,” she said, “Mr. Curious Fox, would you please find a shirt for me to wear so I don’t have to wander the wasteland with my knobs out?” She clutched the loose bandages to her front, gesticulating with the other hand.

He barked out a laugh. “Of course.” He stood, then, and rooted around in some cabinets to no avail. “I have one more question,” he said, peering at her as he closed a dresser drawer.

 _The gun? Everyone who sees it wonders about the gun._ She had a story ready for that.

“Why did you kiss me?” His brows rose, eyes glinting with some mixture of amusement and warning.

“Ki-what? Kiss you? Well, I…”She fidgeted and looked away. “I thought there was a good chance I might die so I guess I just wanted something nice before I did.”

“And any old face would do?”

Now her cheeks burned brightly as she avoided his gaze. “No, of course not. You’re…kind of a cad, some kind of grifter but I meant what I said. It was nice. To talk to you. In those times when we chatted together.” She folded her arms, which unfortunately pulled tightly at her still-healing shoulder and back. “Look, that was a lot of adrenaline, OK? It seemed like a good idea at the time. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He laughed and clapped a hand behind her head. “I’m flattered.” He slid his hand to her shoulder and rubbed a little. It felt awkward to both.

She batted his hand away. “Would you stop that? I know I’m not your type, and that’s perfectly fine, I like having friends, too.”

He pulled his hand back and straightened his loopy tie. “My type? Do tell, what is my type?”

“The other courier. The one who went into the Lucky 38. You’ve got the hots for her, right?” She swung her legs off the bed and to the floor, turning to look at him, then smiled warmly. “I’d be delighted to help you find love, if that’s what you’re after.”

He stared at her, incredulous. “You think I want-….no, that’s not it at all.”

“Come on, it’s fine! I’ll keep an eye out for her-”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s cute when you get annoyed. I’m great at using my charm to get people together, you’ll see!”

“I would never desire that _degenerate_ ,” he snarled, upper lip curled in revulsion.

They sat there for a beat, silent, looking at each other.

“Right, so did you find a shirt?”

He stood and stalked to a dresser, opened it, pulled out a grimy shirt and threw it at her head with a grunt.

“Thanks,” she said, looking it over with the hand not holding the bandages in place on her chest. “This’ll do just fine.” She pulled it on while letting the bandages fall and stood, tucking in her shirt.

“You like pushing my buttons. Do you do that to everyone you come across?” His expression was still a little sour.

“No, just the fun ones. Sorry, I’ll stop if it bugs you.”

“Here,” he said, and tossed her a bag of caps.

She caught it mid-air and peeked inside. “Whoa. Looks about double what we agreed on. You sure about this?”

“Yes. I do…owe you.”

“Rankles you, doesn’t it?” She grinned, forgetting not to ‘bug’ him almost immediately.

“Yes, it does,” he answered without hesitation.

“How about we go get some grub, then, on me? Since I’m rolling in the caps now.”

“I suppose, since you’re paying.” His tone was, thankfully, a little less grumpy.

> > >  
  


She smiled at him over her Sunset Sarsaparilla. They’d returned empty-handed from the third trip after the infamous deathclaw debacle. He never revealed what he was looking for as he poked around some old pre-war ruins and she never asked. That’s probably why he kept hiring her.

“I should tell you, I’m going to move on soon. I can’t sit and wait for the Courier to appear. It could be a while until she returns and I’ve work to do.”

“Aww, I’ll miss you, Mr. Fox. It’s been real fun getting to know you even when you dodge my questions.”

His lips tightened into a smirk. “I could say the same about you, Courier Twenty-nine. Or should I call you Less More?”

“Stop that,” she waved at him.

“Mmm, can’t take it as well as you can dish it out, eh? I should’ve known.” He grinned, waving down the bartender, who promptly produced another Sunset. Vulpes slid it over in front of his companion. “Here. A present.”

“Thank you,” she said and reached over to pat his hand.

He stiffened, staring at her hand, then back to her face.

“You’re a good pal,” she continued. “I really am sorry to see you go. I’ll probably move on soon, too, the Omertas seem to have a stranglehold on the freelance protection business and their goons keep giving me the side-eye. I could see what Nelson has to offer.”

_She thinks we’re friends? Foolish profligate._

“I don’t recommend it,” he said casually. “It’s NCR territory and I don’t think they’d care to have an unaffiliated mercenary wandering in their midst.”

“Who said I was unaffiliated?”

His brows rose. “NCR, then? Or Legion?” Obviously not the latter; she surely would have let that slip before now.

“Myself,” she grinned, hitting the bottle’s edge against the bar to dislodge the cap. She took a big swig and winked.

_Of course. No thought but for herself, no thought for the greater good._

But that wasn’t entirely true, and he knew it. He’d been the recipient of her protection and seen her slip caps and food to the vagrant children of Freeside. Still. A profligate is a profligate.

“Well,” he said, sliding off the stool and straightening his blazer. “I should away. I hope your journeys are safe and successful.” For a brief moment, he meant it. She was a tolerable traveling companion.

“You, too, Mr. Fox. I hope you find what you’re after.” She smiled warmly, planting a hand on his shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

He nodded curtly, turned, and exited the building, her eyes on him as he went. She smiled a little at his back. “Funny fellow.”

Later that night, a particular voice caught her attention as she made her way to a tiny rental room. Down an alley, several figures lurked, speaking in hushed tones. Whispers, to be sure, but the timbre and tone were unmistakable.

“…to the southeast. I want you to check there and report back to me with anything you find.”

“I shall do so, Master Inculta. True to Kai-sar!” The young man said it with barely restrained excitement.

“Vale.”

Courier Twenty-nine’s eyes widened slightly and she flattened herself to the alley wall. So that was his secret? A member of the Legion? And a higher-ranking one at that, clearly.

She shook her head. _What a disappointment_.

There was certainly enough local chatter about the Legion to get a grasp on its atrocities. True, most of it came from drunken NCR soldiers, but it couldn’t _all_ be exaggerations.

She sighed a little and slunk from the alley, making her way to the semi-warm safety of bed.

<< <<  
  


She’d tracked them for two days, keeping a safe distance, watching through binoculars, careful of the sun’s glint on the glass. If they knew they were being followed, they gave no indication.

Mr. Fox and two…Assistants? Bodyguards?...disappeared into a ramshackle house’s root cellar and reappeared a few minutes later in traditional Legion clothing.

“Nice legs, sport,” Twenty-nine muttered to herself. “But dumb hat.”

Indeed, the dog head, while helpful against the sun, did not deliver the increase to intimidation that its wearer might have hoped for. At least so far.

The trio seemed much more comfortable in their traditional outfits and gear as they hoofed it along a little-used path. They were talking, apparently amicably, letting Master Inculta lead, until one pulled out his gun…

And shot the other at point-blank range. Inculta spun on his heel, starting to whip out his rifle when the other man pointed the gun at his head. A tense moment passed.

Something glinted over the hill to the east; fiends. Half a dozen, in fact, whooping and yelling so loudly, even Twenty-nine could hear them at that distance. They surrounded the group and the faux-Legionary lowered his gun, talking with the leader. In the meantime, one of the women whipped the dog helmet off Inculta’s head and tugged it on, crushing his shades beneath a heel. She then danced around their captive, waving her arms and barking.

There was something…some passing memory, what was it? Ah yes, an overhead NCR communication, a bounty on the head of any Legion member. Probably a much larger bounty for a much more important prey. The NCR would surely never let a group of fiends roll up to their barracks, even with this ‘Inculta’ in tow.

A shot rang out, then the fiends laughed. The lower-ranking Legionnaire’s body crumpled to the hard earth, blood seeping from his chest. He scrabbled at the dirt, shuddered, then lay still.

There were too many for Twenty-nine to take on, certainly without a more powerful rifle and better scope. Still, she felt a certain…reluctance to leave Mr. Fox – no, Inculta – to his fate. It wouldn’t hurt to continue following at a distance, just to see where this would lead. More information, anyway, even if it wasn’t about the main players.

They walked and trudged for a day and a half, under the scorching sun, the desert haze, occasionally pushing Inculta until he stumbled and fell. They stopped once to inhale some drugs, most likely Jet, the breakfast of fiend champions; three of the fiends undertook what Twenty-nine could only surmise was a rabid sexual encounter. Inculta turned his head away, disgust in his terse shoulders.

With his hands bound behind his arms, he could do little to change his situation. Whenever he spoke to them, he received a kick or punch. He received little water and no food, though they’d wave it under his nose.

Twenty-nine chewed on a prickly pear bud and pondered. The lights of New Vegas were barely visible now. Maybe it was time to go back to Freeside, leave him with the fiends; surely he’d earned his fate, if the NCR’s tales about the Legion were to be believed.

Inculta leaned his head back against a rock, trying to get comfortable and in that moment, Twenty-nine felt a swell of sympathy. She sighed heavily and downed the last of her pre-bottled water. Nothing to do about it but move forward.

>> >>  
  


Fortune, it would seem, favored not just the bold, but the patient and careful as well. The fiends found a small shed and, presumably, secured Inculta inside. Three of the fiends took off to the north, the other three keeping watch outside. Idiots. If Mr. Fox was half as smart as he seemed, he was probably cooking up some method of escape.

Twenty-nine waited until the other group was out of sight before skulking behind the shed. The fiends weren’t paying attention, their hands shaking, probably needing a fix. She tossed a stone off to the side.

All three hopped up and whipped out their guns and rifles. Looking around, seeing nothing, then laughed it off and sat back down.

“Jumpy as shit, man, what you got?”

“Nothing! You had it already!”

“Come on, you holdin’ out on me?”

Twenty-nine sighed internally; she had no patience for their bickering. No point waiting for them to get high when a plasma shot to the brain would do just as well.

And that’s exactly what she did. The first was down before the other two could even get to their feet. A shot to the second fiend’s stomach caused a molecular chain-reaction and she melted down into green goo.

The third whipped out a gun with an almost unnatural speed, firing off two shots as Twenty-nine dodged behind the metal shed.

“Come on, girl,” he shrieked, “I just wanna be friends! Let’s play!”

Too easy to circle around the shed and shoot him in the back. Not honorable, maybe, but certainly effective.

Twenty-nine patted down the bodies but could find no key and the shed was locked. She clenched her jaw, firing off a couple of plasma bolts. A waste of shots when replacements were increasingly difficult to come by. She kicked at the metal door.

As it banged open, she expected to see Mr. Fox standing, looking smug, but instead, he was seated, wedged between two heavy, metal desks. He looked up at her, blinking from both sudden sunlight and abject surprise.

“Uh, hi. There. Mr. Fox. Or should I say _Master Inculta_?”

“You can call me whatever you want, just get me out of here,” he snarled. The side of his face was covered with dried blood, presumably his own, and a shiner darkened his eye.

Twenty-nine replaced her gun and walked over. “You’re hurt, here, let me-”

“They’re going to come back, so _undo my chains_ ,” he hissed. Ingrate.

She tried to push and pull at the desks, but their bulk would not budge, so instead straddled his legs, reaching behind him for the chains. Apparently, they’d looped them a ridiculous number of times around the desk legs. This close, the acrid scent of his sweat filled her nostrils. She watched the fast pulse at his neck. He rattled the chains for emphasis.

“Fine, fine, I’m trying, OK?” Her arms eased around him, trying to find the lock. How the hell had they wrapped this, anyway?

He turned his head away, lips pulling down in a distinct frown.

“Could you just, push back a little? I need some slack here.”

He nodded and did so. Her torso pressed to his and…was that…heat on his cheeks? Ridiculous.

Finally, she successfully picked the lock and it fell to the side. He pulled his arms free and she rose to her feet, offering a hand. He avoided it, standing with all the wobbly grace of a newborn deer.

He rubbed his arms where the chains left deep indentations. “It seems I owe you again. I’ll pay you handsomely. Kai-sar will pay you handsomely.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t do it for caps. You needed help, so I…” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, voice petering out.

His eyebrows lowered. “You followed me.” He seemed taller now, looking at her with an unmistakable air of judgment.

She cleared her throat. “I did.”

“For three days. Are you with the NCR?”

“No, I’m just….I was curious about this Legion spy guy.” She swallowed. He was standing too close. He seemed…altogether too much. Too many angles on his face, too much simmering anger in his eyes.

He barked out a sharp, humorless laugh. “I don’t believe that for a second. You followed us for three days, never tipping your hand. I never once caught you and while I must admit to being impressed, I have to ask myself _why_.” He tilted his head, regarding her as someone might a lab rat.

“Well,” she started, glancing aside, “I didn’t have anything else better to do and like I said, I was curious about the Legion. And you.”

“You almost seem like you mean it.”

“I do.” It was her turn to scowl. “You haven’t even thanked me, you know. Rude.”

He blinked at her, shocked, truly shocked that someone would have the audacity to talk to him like that.

A long pause. Then: “Thank you. I am…” _deeply ashamed_ “grateful.”

She looked away and smiled, “OK, well, you’re welcome. But I have some questions. About the Legion. And you. After we get you patched up.”

Shouting in the distance; the fiends had returned and noticed the bodies of their comrades.

“That shall have to wait.” He wasted no time darting outside, grabbing up a rifle, and, with expert marksmanship, making short work of the three screeching fiends. Twenty-nine held back, not wishing to deny him any sense of vengeance. At least until he started smashing the butt of the rifle against the face of one of the fiends. With that, she pulled him back.

He turned to her, a few splatters of blood dotting his face, gaunt from dehydration. For a moment, she thought he might shoot her, but then, slowly, he lowered the rifle. She let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“I’m not going back to Freeside,” he said simply.

“Neither am I. I can escort you if you need protection. Two hundred caps, per our usual arrangement.”

His eyebrows slowly rose, and his lips followed suit. He started to laugh, softly at first, then ricocheting into something more than a little unhinged.

“I don’t owe you,” he said, laughter coming to a sudden, unnerving end. “Do you understand? For the head of the _Frumentarii_ to owe you, a profligate…” he shook his head, stalking towards her, “it cannot be.” He grabbed her shoulders, giving them a slight shake. His fingers trembled. “I won’t owe you. You didn’t save my life, you didn’t…” he swallowed upon a dry throat. “To owe you-”

“A woman?”

He huffed. “I’ve seen enough women killers and warriors to know…” he swayed on his feet, pausing to steady himself before continuing, “to part ways with my brethren in their ill regard of your sex.”

“OK. Fine. So, what do you want with me? You don’t have to owe me.”

He barked out a laugh and released her shoulders, dropping shaking hands to his sides. “To peel off your clothes, throw your legs over my shoulders and show you what kind of man I-”

Her palm connected with his cheek in a fierce slap.

“am. Is that what you want me to say?” he finished with a grin, closer to a sneer. His cheek turned red but that was the only indication of the slap; he had not flinched.

She glowered at him. “You’re an asshole. Is this your real self, then?”

“Oh, I’m afraid so, my dear, I…” with that, he fell to his knees, breathing harder. He looked up at her, mouth open, panting a little. “If you’ve water, though, I’d take it.”

Twenty-nine set her jaw and spun on her heel, marching outside to rifle through the fiends’ packs. There, she found a couple of bottles of purified water and returned to find him lying face-down on the floor. Groaning more with annoyance than effort, she rolled him over, dragged him, and sat him up against the inside wall of the shed, out of the sun. She then carefully drizzled some water into his mouth. He choked a little but swallowed.

She helped him drink in that way, slowly, painstakingly, for nearly a half hour. At last, his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her, then around. “Oh,” he said simply.

One brow slowly crept up. “Oh indeed,” she smirked. “Careful, then,” she continued as he made to pull away and stand.

He cleared his throat. “Let us never speak of any of this again.”

“Rankles you, doesn’t it?” she asked, standing as well and dusting off her pants.

“More than I can possibly express.”

They stood there in mute discomfort for a full thirty seconds.

“Well, good luck to you then, _Master Inculta_.”

“Vulpes. Vulpes Inculta. I’m Master Inculta to you if you were my subordinate.” _Ah, if only_.

“Right. Well, Mr. Inculta…”

He grimaced.

“…I’ll be on my way, then.”

“If you return to the Fort with me, I can pay you a vast sum for your silence.”

“Well, you could also shoot me, that would keep me quiet too, right? But I’ll take neither option, thank you. Just take care of yourself.” She clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze as she passed. She didn’t look back.

He stood there far longer than he intended, replaying the past few days’ events in his mind, from the betrayal to his eventual release. What did he owe a profligate woman who put herself in jeopardy for his sake? One who would take no money or promise as payment?

_Nothing, I owe her nothing. This was her choice._

But his fists clenched, and he felt unsettled even as he watched her silhouette disappear into the Mojave sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I replayed New Vegas recently and, as per my usual, thought the villain was interesting. Please note that I detest the Legion, I can't even bring myself to side with them on a replay, but I thought it would be interesting to explore Vulpes as a character.


	2. No Such Sender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is some bloody violence, which is why I set the Graphic Violence warning.

He contemplated Twenty-nine from time to time as he set about his various tasks the next few days. The Courier – the real one – had proven a clever foe, exhausting his spy network and pulling together a group of willing madmen and women who followed her like a cult.

Twenty-nine – Less/More, perhaps – did not sit right in his mind. Not just because of her conscious actions but also the way she straddled him while trying to undo the chains. His body had reacted in a way he didn’t like, a way he couldn’t control, and control was…well, it was everything. Certainly, he’d used his own wiles to gather information from quite-willing subjects with the promise of pleasure. Fortunately, he rarely had to follow through.

This time, though…He clenched his jaw, staring at some point just beyond Lanius’ head as he talked, not listening to a word.

The way he’d behaved under the effects of dehydration – because that’s all it was, really – absolutely unforgivable. Maddening. He replayed it over and over in his mind, lingering on her jaw brushing past his, the way she her arms encircled him as she strained with the lock. Her silhouette as she stood in the shed doorway, the door banging against the wall from the impact of her boot.

He wanted her on his lap again, perhaps telling him stories of her travels, and this was intolerable.

>> <<

Caesar’s mood was grim. The Courier retook Nelson and stuck Dead Sea’s head on a pike. Vulpes didn’t find that part of the news particularly distressing, but the Nelson aspect could prove problematic to explain to their subordinates. Perhaps they could spin it as Dead Sea’s weakness (and hubris)…

A Praetorian Guard bolted into the tent, panting a little from his sprint. “True to Cae-“

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” the Caesar in question waved.

“My Lord, we have the Courier!”

This made everyone in the tent stand up a little straighter. Vulpes would have preferred to bring the Courier in himself, or kill her outright, but this at, at least, was progress.

“Bring her in, then. I’d see what this Courier is made of myself,” came Caesar’s command.

The guard bolted back outside and when he returned, a different Legionnaire, a Decanus by the name of Glinting Blade, led a heavily bound form, a harsh bruise on her cheekbone and a cut above her temple. Her eyes darted around from one face to the other like a scared animal, coming to rest on Caesar, then, finally, on Vulpes.

Courier Twenty-nine.

Vulpes stared, mouth open for the briefest of moments before he snapped it shut with an audible click.

“My Lord, I present to you the Courier that has caused so much vexation!” announced Glinting Blade, with no small measure of pride.

Caesar looked Twenty-nine up and down; she glared back, though a continuous tremble wracked her body.

“I’m not who you’re looking f-” she began, only to be backhanded by a guard.

“Silence, woman!”

Vulpes took a deep breath. “It’s true. She is _not_ the Courier of whom we seek.”

Caesar slowly inclined his head to look up at his Frumentarius. “Explain.”

“Though I trust Glinting Blade made quite an _effort_ in her capture, I have met the Courier at Nipton, and I can assure you, this is not the same person. This one is known as Courier Twenty-nine, not Courier Six. Six is a different height and a far different skin tone.” He stepped up to her, grabbing her chin and turning her this way and that, as though inspecting. She tried to pull her chin away, but he grasped harder, almost enough to hurt.

Glinting Blade stared at him, aghast. His mouth opened and closed several times before he spoke. “How-how can that be? She was…they told me this was the Courier!”

Vulpes’ lip curled very slightly. “This is why I don’t trust someone of your ilk to do the job of a Frumentarius. Check your sources, Glinting Blade.”

Caesar waved his hand dismissively. “Fine. Toss her in the slave pen. Glinting Blade, if you ever bring me the wrong person again, I’ll personally nail you to a cross. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord!”

Caesar continued, “As for the real Courier, perhaps we need a new strategy, one I’ve mulled over for a while.”

Vulpes’ eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Twenty-nine, not yet turning to face Caesar. “What would you have me do, my liege?”

With that, Vulpes whispered two words, so quiet, she almost didn’t hear him. “Challenge me.”

“I would have you-

“Vulpes Inculta!” Twenty-nine bellowed, “I challenge you for the position of head of the Frumentarii!”

Silence for three whole seconds, then the entire tent burst into laughter.

“Challenge _me_ , little molerat? Do you really think you can stand against me in actual battle?”

“I’d rather die trying than live as a slave,” she spat.

“Fine. You there, unbind her and bring her to the arena.”

Caesar smirked, tilting his head, “Well, at least this surprise will give us a little entertainment.”

<< <<

They were both stripped of armor, Vulpes opting to go shirtless, and Twenty-nine in the simple pants and tank top that hid behind her usual armor. Each was given a machete.

Despite being a spy and infiltrator, Vulpes’ form was lean and muscular; he dared not allow his form to wither. Their eyes locked as they circled each other. Bruises lined her arms, but she didn’t look otherwise worse for wear.

All at once, Vulpes surged forward, swinging the blade at her chest. She staggered backwards and tried to kick out his legs to no avail. She inwardly cursed her lack of true hand-to-hand combat training. The blade felt awkward in her hand; a knife would have been better, a gun, he didn't stand a chance.

Vulpes’ smirk was infuriating as he toyed with her, jabbing forward, across or down. But he was too self-assured and almost didn’t dodge her punch in time. With a snarl, he threw himself forward, using his blade to disarm her. The machete went flying.

“You are finished, molerat. Yield.”

“Never!” With that, she dropped, scooped up a handful of dirt, and flung it at him.

He coughed, almost dropping the blade and she hurled herself at him, knocking him to the ground. They rolled for a moment as he held one eye shut, grappling, until at last, he grabbed her neck and pushed her onto her back.

“Yield.”

“No!” Her hands pushed at his shoulders. “I won’t!”

“Yield to _me_ , you fool,” he said through clenched teeth, voice low, “or they’ll kill you!”

She was panting hard, looking up at him, searching for something, some kind of promise or hope.

He didn’t have any to give her.

Her voice was hoarse. “I yield.”

A cheer went up from the spectators. Caesar leaned over and said something to the Praetorian at his side, who nodded and smirked.

Vulpes stood and placed a booted foot on her neck, though he did not push down.

“Vulpes Inculta is the victor,” Caesar announced, sounding bored. “Finish it, that was hardly even a show.”

“If I may, my Lord, I would take a prize. This woman, as my personal slave.”

Caesar’s brows rose. “Really. You’ve never taken one before, why now?”

“I find her perplexing and as you well know, I cannot abide a mystery.” That was the truth, at least. Caesar would see through any lies.

“Fine, then. Break her in quickly, Vulpes. I don’t want a profligate running around camp unchecked.”

<< >>

She eyed him carefully and he kept his distance a few paces away. His tent was sparse save for a small shelf of old, pre-war books, a stool, footlocker, clean mattress, and a few metal bins.

“I won’t touch you like that, Twenty-nine. Not the way he implied.”

“How do I know that?” She looked around for a weapon, but none were to be had; she hadn’t stopped trembling, feeling exposed in a tank top without her armor. At least she didn't have to wear the slave dress...so far.

“I give you….” He paused, suddenly aware of the important promise he was about to make, “my word. You’ll be safe in here as long as you behave.” Vulpes’ promises were few.

“ _Behave_? Do I look like I know how to behave?” She was shivering now, likely some dehydration as the sun was still out and the tent warm.

“You know what I mean. Don’t make a ruckus. I won’t hurt you, but the others don’t have the history with you that I do.” He walked over to a footlocker and produced a bottled water. “Here.”

She looked at it, then to him.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not poisoned. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so in the arena.”

She nodded and stepped forward, taking it carefully, then opening it and guzzling.

“Slower, or you’ll vomit.”

Glaring, she did as suggested.

“Did they…mistreat you?” Slaves for work were fine, but slaves for pleasure? Where was the sport in that? Once, after a particularly stunning victory, he’d been offered his pick of Caesar’s women. To maintain decorum, he selected one, but upon bringing her to his tent, saw the fear in her eyes. He enjoyed fear in his enemies’ gaze, but that woman had no choice and certainly no desire. He’d shook his head and let her tell him camp gossip instead. As it turns out, he learned a particularly nasty detail about Aurelius of Phoenix’s predilections that he would use as blackmail later.

“No,” Twenty-nine said, “Hit me a few times but nothing else.”

“Mmm, about that,” he said stepping forward. She froze. “Sit.”

Her eyes glinted darkly in his direction.

“Sit so I can tend your wounds, you stubborn cretin.”

Taking a deep breath, Twenty-nine nodded, sinking onto a stool. She closed her eyes and listened to him root around in that footlocker again.

She felt cool fingers and a damp cloth wipe away the grit and dried blood on the side of her face. Felt his breath as he leaned in close, inspecting, pulling aside her hair to check for bumps and cuts on the scalp. Fingers lightly traced down her arms, pausing at scratches and gashes to clean them. He was exacting, not tender. She tried not to wince.

Finally, he applied some bandages, rubbed a little healing salve over some cuts and put a small phial of bitter drink in her hands. “Here, don’t sip this. Guzzle in one go.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, squatting as he was in front of her. Her fingers curled around the phial, squeezing hard. She turned her head away.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

Her bottom lip quivered. At last, a few tears slid down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded slightly.

“What happens now? I’m here and…” her voice trailed off.

“Well,” he said, standing, “I have things to plan here for a while. Then I’ll head back to New Vegas, most likely, if Caesar suggests what I suspect he will.”

“What happens to me?”

What indeed? He hadn’t thought that far head, for once. His only thought had been keeping her away from those jackals. Repaying his debt. He sighed, replacing the unused bandages in the footlocker. “I don’t know.”

“I won’t stay here. I’ll escape.”

“Don’t even think of trying. There are eyes everywhere, they _will_ kill you. Do you understand?”

“No, I-”

He reached down and grasped her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. “ _Do_ _not_ ,” he hissed, “even think of it. The gullies are littered with the bones of runaway slaves.”  
  
She grabbed his wrist and leapt to her feet, snarling, challenging. Something blazed to life in his throat, sizzling its way down to his groin. The way she looked at him, so full of fire.

He wanted to touch her face, brush a thumb over that unbruised cheekbone.

Now wasn’t the time. Maybe it never would be. She was understandably skittish, surrounded by enemies on all sides and, from her perspective, housed with one. Anyway, opening himself up to such actions would be a profound weakness and waste of time.

“Get some rest, Twenty-nine,” he said, pulling his wrist from her grasp. “You’ll find food in the corner box. Read the books if you care to.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, expression softening to carefully honed neutrality.

“The privy is out to the right. Walk directly there, don’t make eye contact with anyone. Don’t linger.”

“I hate this,” she said simply, quietly.

He hadn’t really thought about it before, thought about what the slaves went through to survive day to day. They faded to the background, no different from the sounds of training or eating. Years ago, one recruit suggested to Caesar that they cease the practice; his manhood was removed, and he was sent to the slave pens. Infection set in and he died shortly thereafter. Perhaps it was for the best.

“I’ll be back in the evening. Don’t stray from this tent.”

She nodded. He couldn’t do much about it if she disobeyed. Reluctantly, he lifted the tent flap and exited, and she sank down into a corner and considered how all her choices in life brought her to this point.

He returned late into the night to find her curled up in the corner of the tent as though the fabric would somehow protect her. How little she knew about stabbing a warm body from outside the tent. He decided not to tell her.

>> <<

She did not speak much the first few days and he was constantly receiving reports from spies and giving directions, so spent little time in the room.

Curious, he asked her what she’d been doing to pass the time.

“Learning Latin, of course, _Frumentarius_. And…” she gestured to the sparse interior of the tent, “figuring out how to craft a weapon. Tell me, where are they keeping my gun?”

His brows rose and he strode towards her, hands behind his back. “Ah, yes, that strange plasma gun. Where did you acquire it?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She folded her arms.

“I don’t have to,” he reminded her. “You said once you come from the East, so tell me how it is you avoided the Legion in your journey west.”

She turned her head away. “I didn’t think you were even listening.”

“I’m _always_ listening. That’s what I do, my dear-”

“Don’t call me that. It was cute when you were Mr. Fox, but now it’s just creepy.” A glower was practically radiating off her in waves.

His eyes held hers. “Tell me where you came from.”

She huffed out a humorless laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Allow me to choose whether or not I believe you with the given information.”

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He leaned down, narrowing his eyes.

Her lips pulled into a smirk and he knew she was about to let loose with some retort. “Do you Legion folks wear underpants beneath those skirts or what?”

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?”

They were standing a little too close now, much closer than two enemies should. For those few moments, Twenty-nine did not notice her surroundings or hear the training shouts outside.

“Well,” she said, looking away casually, then back before speaking, “when I shove a knife up your rear, I want to know what to expect.”

He barked out a laugh. “Is that supposed to intimidate me? Ahhh, Twenty-nine, still interested in pushing my buttons even in this situation. It would almost be amusing if it wasn’t so ridiculous.”

She opened her mouth to make a smart retort, but he put a finger over her lips. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Now, now, faux-Courier. Keep those thoughts to yourself. I’ll return later.” He grinned slyly, sliding his finger down and off her lips. She stiffened but did not look afraid.

After the tent flap closed, she pushed her hair back, alarmed. “What the hell was that? I gotta get out of here. Nope nope nope.” At least she’d been able to divert the conversation away from her home.

A few more days passed with relative calm. She heard someone screaming and didn’t dare look out; it seemed to be a man’s voice. Whatever the ruckus, the voice cut off mid-yell.

She’d already rifled through every single container, looked under the mattress, and even lifted the tent flaps to see if she could find any weapons.

Her nose stuck in a book, she heard the tent flap lift. “You’re back early-” She stared up at a Legion recruit, his curly, light brown hair more of a mess than they usually allowed. He looked wide-eyed and friendly.

“I’m here to speak with Master Inculta.”

“Well, as you can see, he’s not here,” Twenty-nine gestured to the empty area, voice guarded.

The recruit’s eyes slowly trailed around the tent. “So it would seem. Tell me, are you his wife?”

“Me?” she squeaked out, “absolutely not. No.”

An ice-cold trickle of fear formed along Twenty-nine’s spine. The footlocker could be hurled at this man if he tried anything. She could yell, but who would come to help? No one.

“Tell me, what do you do in here?”

“I don’t think that’s your business,” she answered, forcing a calm tone. “I think you should leave.” She stayed seated in case she needed to launch herself forward at him.

“That is not your place to suggest, woman. Tell me, when will Master Inculta return?”

“He doesn’t tell me his comings and goings.”

He took two steps forward. “Then he won’t-” He abruptly stopped as a knife point indented the side of his neck. The recruit froze.

Twenty-nine hadn’t even seen the tent flap move. Vulpes’ voice rolled out from behind the man. “Tell me what you are doing here, recruit.”

“I- I came to deliver a report, Master Inculta!” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes flicked from one side of the room to the other.

“I was not here. Why did you linger?”

“I was just- I was just going to leave!”

The point dug in a little, a fine red dot appearing and slowly easing down the side of his neck. The recruit winced.

Vulpes’ voice sounded like gravel. “Oh, but you didn’t leave. You lingered. Why?”

“I was just talking to…to this woman, she was very…happy to see me!”

“That’s a lie!” barked Twenty-nine.

“I know it is,” came Vulpes’ dangerously calm reply. “You see, recruit, you are not allowed to enter an officer’s tent uninvited. You are not allowed to interact with their…” _Friend?_ “property.” The knife slowly drew upwards, ending below the recruit’s ear. “You already know this, so the fact you ignored those rules tells me you wanted something. Now I want something from you. And I do not mean the report, which was a flimsy excuse for entering my quarters.”

The recruit swallowed hard, eyes closing. Beads of sweat inched down his temple. “Yes? Yes, Master Inculta?”

“I’m feeling generous, so you get to pick. Your ear, your eye, or your cock. Which one will it be?”

“My-…my?” He said it like he couldn’t understand the choices.

“Ear, eye, or cock. If you don’t tell me in two seconds, I will choose for you.” He started to lower the blade, indicating his likely choice.

“Ear!” he blurted out.

With that, the knife slipped upwards in a harsh stroke; red spurted out and the recruit let out a loud yeowl.

Vulpes lowered the knife and bent over to pick up the ear, which he then held out. The recruit took it with a shaking hand, the other covering his earless side. Blood seeped between his fingers, dribbled over them. “Now,” Vulpes said, “I want you to put this in the privy. I’ll know if you don’t. And let this be a lesson to you and any others who would enter my tent without permission. Only Caesar himself may enter here. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Master Inc-Inculta! Yes!” He turned and ran through the tent flaps, not even bothering to push them aside.

Vulpes stared at the flaps as he spoke. “Normally, I would kill a man who did that, but I want him to send a message to anyone else with similar notions.” He turned to look at Twenty-nine.

She was staring at him with wide eyes.

His brows rose. “Yes?”

“I don’t know whether to thank you or tell you how terrifying you are.”

His lips quirked. “Both are fine.”

She took a deep breath and looked away. “I can’t protect myself here, I don’t know hand-to-hand as well as I should.”

He shook blood off the knife before replacing it in his boot. “I will teach you, but I have another idea. In four days, I need leave for New Vegas as my sources tell me the Courier is on her way there. You will accompany me.”

Twenty-nine's features pulled into a scowl. “I won’t help you capture her.”

“That is not my intention. Caesar wishes me to extend to her his Mark so that she may pass freely through our lands and meet with him.”

“Why?”

“He wishes to talk sense into her and invite her to join the Legion.”

“I’ve never met her but from what I hear, that’s highly unlikely.”

“Caesar can be very persuasive.”

“Apparently.”

Vulpes squatted down, examining the red splotches on the hard-packed dirt floor. The blood already soaked into the parched earth. Still, he used the side of his hand to move a few meager bits of dirt and stone over the red. Perhaps it would make his 'guest' feel a little more at ease.

“So, property, am I?”

He looked up, pausing. “What would you have me call you, then? Considering where we are.”

“I…That’s a good question.” She looked away. “We’ve helped each other back and forth, and I don’t think you find my company repellent. So maybe….friends?”

“Do I look like I have many friends?” He gave her a pointed look.

“No, that’s why…nevermind.” She felt hurt for some reason she couldn’t name.

“Fine.”  
  
“What?”

“Fine,” he repeated, standing and brushing off his hands, “If that’s what you want to call this. But only when we’re alone.”

She nodded. That was a start, anyway. “And thank you.”

His lips quirked as he looked at her. “I may yet kill him in his sleep.”

>> <<

She watched as he removed the chest armor, down to just a tunic. Her eyes took in his form from top to bottom. The past few days, he had taken to removing his armor in her presence to be more comfortable. If she had a knife he'd be an easy target, but she wouldn't stab the one person in the camp who didn't want to abuse her. “You’re smart, Vulpes. Wily. Clever, like your namesake, though I’ve never seen a fox in person. Why do you follow him?”

He peered at her sidelong while he oiled down the leather portions of the armor. “Caesar?”

She nodded.

“You’ve seen much of the Wasteland. He is bringing order to this chaos. He already has, in fact, if you look at what Arizona was like before his reach extended there. Dangerous, almost impossible to travel.”

“But the slaves. Is that really necessary? It’s needlessly cruel.”

“It’s either that or death. Some profligates won’t willingly follow his rule. Most are filthy with lies and only hope to serve themselves, betraying their brother. They’d sell their children to us for a pittance. Some have.” He sensed she hoped to lead him into some kind of verbal trap. “You’ve seen at least one Legion town, you said so yourself. Few if any slaves there, correct?”

“Yes, but…the women here.”

“That is one aspect where I part ways with my lord.”

“Are there others?” She caught his eyes and held them.

“You would be wise not to question my allegiance to Caesar. I would not betray him, and I serve his cause willingly.” His jaw set and he went back to work on the armor.

Silence lingered for a few minutes.

“When he has the entire Mojave, what then? What is he doing to lift up humanity? What will he do?”

Vulpes paused, then answered carefully. “As I said, order from chaos. Tightly controlled, clean, prosperous Legion towns and safety on the roads.”

“Mmm,” Twenty-nine said. She toed the dirt with one boot. “Sure, but beyond that. What else? What plan does he have? Because from where I sit, he hasn’t advanced science or industry, he hasn’t done shit for the health and the well-being of the Mojave populace. He kills anyone who disagrees with him, kills the parents and brainwashes their children into obedience, like you-”

Vulpes surged forward and grabbed her chin firmly. His voice was low, his eyes dark, glinting. “You forget where you are, little molerat. Forget to whom you are speaking.”

She pulled her head from his grasp and looked up at him. “I’m talking to my _friend_ and pointing out the glaring flaws in the system he reveres. Where I’m from-”

“And where is that, exactly?”

She continued as though uninterrupted, “all Wastelanders are primitives. Everyone out here, including the Legion, are less than nothing. You can’t advance science or health. You hate everyone beneath you, but you’re no better.”

His lips formed a cruel sneer. “If your home was so perfect, then why are you here?”

Her eyes widened a little. She looked away as though saddened, then back to him, eyes hardened again, resolute. “Don’t change the subject. There is no plan, Vulpes. There is _no plan_!”

His jaw set, lips tight as he regarded her, anger surging through every vein, evident in his stilted movements. He’d prove her wrong. “In fact, I will be meeting with Caesar shortly, so perhaps we’ll discuss his long-reaching goals once the Mojave is set on its path. Then I’ll hear no more of this while you’re in my domain.” He snatched up his armor and buckled it on, glaring at her from time to time. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him, like she was hurt. Like he’d hurt her.

He stalked out of the tent, saying nothing. Upon meeting with Caesar, he questioned him: What happens beyond the Mojave, beyond California? After the NCR was completely eradicated? They’d been so focused on conquering, how shall they lift up humanity? What have they bought with all their blood and death and disgust? If they were better and stronger than the degenerates, how would they show it?

There was…

There was no plan.

>> <<

Two days passed and neither spoke of the plan or lack thereof. They were both sulky, prickly. Vulpes reminded himself on several occasions that he didn’t have time to consider the foolish misgivings of a profligate. Yet the thoughts persisted even as he considered his next steps. It didn’t sit right with him; he wanted her to see, to understand was so clear to him. If not for this life, he would be scraping by in some downtrodden tribe, barely knocking rocks together. No, this life brought purpose to him and to the Mojave. What other life could he lead?

“You’re snoring,” came the harsh whisper.

Vulpes’ eyes snapped open to near-pitch darkness and he instinctively reached for the knife in his boot. Fortunately, he didn’t roll to stab the form peering at him from a couple feet away.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re snoring,” Twenty-nine said, like it was the most normal thing in the world for her to wake him about that. “You don’t normally snore.”

He blinked in surprise. That was true. Unfortunately, he’d been offered (and drank) some noxious tea given to Caesar to help with his headaches. The tea had set his throat and sinuses to scorching, and then, at last, to tingling.

“I can’t help that.”

“Yes, you can. Roll over.” She padded over to him and pushed on his shoulder. He preferred to sleep on his back in case of attack.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t- stop that!” he hissed, swatting at her hand.

She smirked down at him. “If you sleep on your side, you won’t snore, and I can finally get some rest. You sound like a half-dead brahmin.”

“I don’t sleep on my side, always on my back.”

“Now who’s the ridiculous one? I’ll watch for intruders.”

He raised a brow at her.

“Oh, come on, I know where you keep all the weapons in your boots. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, Vulpes.”

His eyelid twitched at her use of his first name. Much too intimate. He should have put a stop to it days ago. Well, too late now.

“Fine. But only if we sleep back to back.”

She stared at him. “Sleep next to you?”

“I don’t like having my back unprotected, and you’ve proven yourself good at …watching over me.” He hated to admit it, especially out loud, but it was true.

“Well, all right.” With that, she pulled over the mattress he’d acquired for her after the first night.

He rolled onto his side and she laid down next to him, her back to his, allowing a little space between them.

“This is a little awkward,” she muttered.

“Yes, it is. Go to sleep.”

After a few minutes, both slumbered peacefully and fitfully in turns. When morning came, Twenty-nine was surprised to find Vulpes’ front pressed to her back, his arm slung over her waist. She did not immediately move.

Neither did he, when his eyes fluttered open.

Each thought the other felt warm and nice, and both had a strong reluctance to leave. At last, noises bounced around as the camp came to life, the sun filtering through holes in the tent. Vulpes quickly retracted his arm and sat up.

“We leave tomorrow morning,” he said quietly, not wishing to bring up how they awoke.

In truth, he hadn’t told Caesar he’d be bringing his “slave,” as he didn’t know how he’d react or if he’d even give permission. It was a dead giveaway for a legionary to bring obvious slaves into NCR-controled areas. Still, he had his reasoning ready: If the Courier wouldn’t accept the mark from him, perhaps she would from a woman.

He needn’t have worried; Caesar was in the midst of a monstrous headache attack and was seeing no visitors. Legate Lanius did not understand the importance of Caesar’s plan but insisted Vulpes follow through. As if he wouldn’t.

He hadn’t snored that night, having recovered from the tea, but Twenty-nine laid back-to-back with him regardless. Both were very slightly disappointed to wake up in that pose as well.

It was strange for Twenty-nine to walk through Cottonwood Cove without being shoved, jeered at, and filled with terror. Though an anxious fear still lapped at her heart, she walked close to Vulpes. So peculiar to see the deference paid to him in crossed arms and shouts of “Ave, Master Inculta!” She was grateful he’d thought to retrieve her gun and bequeath it to her after they left the Cove. He’d changed outfits there, to something that spoke more to “generic wandering mercenary” than Legion spy.

“Uncomfortable to go uphill again,” Twenty-nine groused, pausing to rub her calves. She’d kept in shape in the camp, but nearly three weeks had passed without a true, long walk. “Too bad we don’t have a vertibird.”

Vulpes eyed her sidelong. “Have you seen many of those?”

“Yes, I-” She started, then clamped her mouth shut.

“Enclave,” he hissed, “I knew it!” coming to stand in front of her with folded arms. “The plasma gun and good teeth gave you away.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “I’m not from the Enclave. Honest.”

He stepped forward; she fought the urge to step back. “Then where? Where in the east, my dear?”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” she said and prodded his chest with a finger.

“Don’t change the subject.” His brows rose and he gave her a suitably imperious look.

Without warning, she grabbed the front of his armor and shoved him up against the canyon wall. His eyes widened – what in the world?

She whipped out her gun and took out the small radscorpion just beyond him with one shot. He looked from it to her face and back again.

“Seems you owe me again, Master Inculta,” she said with a lilt in her voice and a smirk on her lips. She blew away some non-existent smoke from the end of her gun like they did in the old pre-war advertising posters.

She slowly pulled away, patted his chest, and started back up the canyon; he stayed against the wall for a moment, dazed, and mentally talking down his absolutely raging erection.


	3. Garden of Earthly Delights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that italicized text between the double curly brackets ( {{ }} ) is meant to indicate a memory.

She looked at him. He looked back. Neither made to move toward or away each other as they unrolled their respective packs to provide just a little comfort from the hard Mojave ground.

Finally, he relented: “Back to back, Twenty-nine. It’s safer that way.”

“Yeah, safer,” she agreed, forcing her voice to sound normal because the suggestion gave her a peculiar twinge in her gut. She settled down beside him, back pressed to his. When should she part ways with him? They hadn’t discussed it. Perhaps after he’d handed off the Mark to Courier Six so she could be sure he didn’t intend to kill her. He hadn’t lied yet, though.

Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled. The scent of the Mojave air was much preferable to the various body odors of the Fort. Though there were certainly no end to the dangers of the desert, she felt safer, free.

She thought about the back that pressed to hers. About his name. She saw a fox in a children’s book once. Fluffy. Apparently, old stories positioned them set as some kind of trickster deity. Did they still exist somewhere? Foxes and tricksters?

Her drowsy thoughts drifted to the past, four years prior, such a stark contrast to her current situation.

_{{ You want to know how many actual humans left before you? Twenty-eight. Guess how many made it back. Go on, guess. Zero. None. And that was before we sealed our home. Out there in the Wasteland, you’ll be less than nothing. And here? Your name will be wiped from the birth registry, no one will remember you. Go back to being a mediocre security officer. Do you even realize how good you have it here? What we’ve built? What a useless- }}_

In the morning, as the sun slowly crept into the horizon, she watched Vulpes’ face as he slept peacefully. How did he stir the kind of fondness that fluttered within her now? She knew it wasn’t in her nature to avoid attachments, even though eventually, she should return home.

Probably.

Who knows what awaited her, though, after four years of traveling the Wasteland. She hadn’t heard from them in the years she’d been away, despite sending multiple reports about the ingenuity and culture of the inhabitants; surely their silence was a very bad sign. Or they just…didn’t care. That might be worse. Unsurprising, but worse.

His eyes opened and he looked at her. Her breath ghosted over his chin.

“Listen, I’m going to tell you something. I left my home. Because of that, they wouldn’t let me…” she lowered her gaze to some point on his jaw, “let me keep my birth name. I gave myself my own name, Less Than More Than. I’m no less than or more than anyone out here in the Wasteland. I know it’s silly. They just…I…yeah.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who?” he asked, voice quiet.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Forget I said anything. I know you won’t, but I’m making a suggestion.” She paused, then tucked her head under his chin. Her eyes weren’t teary, but she didn’t want him to see the emotion there.

For Vulpes, her show of affection was new and in no small part disquieting. Still, he was nothing if not adaptable; frumentarius work often involved giving people what they thought they wanted. He hesitated, then carefully laid his arm over her, resting his hand at her back, between her shoulder blades, where the tattoo resided. She seemed to like this as she made an almost-inaudible noise of comfort.

“Sorry,” she said after a moment, pulling away, “I know you probably hate that sort of thing. Big tough Legion spy and all.”

He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back to his chest. “If that’s what you need to be in proper working order, woman, then let it never be said I didn’t provide.”

She burst out in laughter. “You’re an idiot.” She snuggled in closer and he forced himself to relax into it. “I’ll admit, I haven’t been hugged in a very long time.”

“As you can imagine,” he said drily,” I don’t do much hugging.”

“You’re pretty good at it.”

“Pretty good?”

“It’s kind of like hugging a robot.”

“And just how many robots have you hugged?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” the smirk evident in her voice.

They lay there for a few minutes until at last, she pulled away. “Thanks. That was….that was nice.”

She smiled softly at him and in that brief moment, he felt his insides twist into a tingly knot. Never in his life had he experienced such a sensation and while he couldn’t say he found it distressing, it wasn’t entirely pleasant.

She gently patted his hand and sat up, stretching.

Fourteen radscorpions, seven cazadors, two molerats, five fiends, and one glowing, angry ghoul later, they made their way into Freeside, the rank, piss-stained walls a strangely welcome sight. “Mr. Fox” made a return with his brown suit, which had been stowed away in a chest and hidden under some rubble outside the walls.

They rented a room at the Atomic Wrangler. Vulpes’ sources indicated the Courier and her entourage stayed there for a few days when she first arrived to Freeside. The poorer occupants were much more open about the comings and goings of visitors than the tight-lipped luxury casino inhabitants. If Vulpes was lucky, the Courier would walk right into the Wrangler and he need not spend more time near New Vegas than was necessary. The Gomorrah in particular made his skin crawl.

Francine Garret slid two Sunset Sarsaparillas over the bar where Vulpes and Twenty-nine sat close together. “Nice to see you two again. Looks like you’re a bit more cozy this time.” She winked dramatically.

Vulpes and Twenty-nine looked at each other, then each snorted out a half-laugh.

“Hardly,” came Vulpes’ reply. “We’re merely…friends-”

“Business associates,” Twenty-nine said at the same time. _Oh_. She cracked open her Sunset and took a big swig to hide her embarrassment.

Francine’s smirk tightened. “Friends, business associates, whatever you want to say when you’re sharing a room with one bed.”

Twenty-nine coughed as some sarsaparilla went down the wrong way, and Vulpes thumped her on the back.

Chuckling, Francine disappeared into the back room.

Twenty-nine took a deep breath and looked at Vulpes, her eyes betraying concern. “Do you…want separate rooms? I just thought, since we were on the road together…” her voice trailed off.

He didn’t look at her as he took a sip. “Please. You get into enough trouble with me right by your side. Do you think I’d let you out of my sight for an entire night?”

She smiled a little and glanced at him. “All right. I admit I like having you protect my back.”

Was that a small quirk of his lips and a nod? “Good.” _It’s the same for me._

>> >>

Something hard pressed to her rear. Her eyes slowly opened, and she looked around; the hint of light in the window indicated morning was on its way. Vulpes’ arm was slung over her waist, holding her close.

He shifted behind her, letting out a low noise. A sigh? A moan? She slowly lifted her head and looked back at him. Fast asleep.

His hips shoved forward again, and she almost burst into laughter. Instead, she elbowed back and whispered, “Careful with that weapon, Vulpes.”

The Frumentarius’ eyes snapped open and for a brief moment, he looked confused. Then, slowly, he disentangled from her and looked down. He raised his gaze back up to Twenty-nine’s cheeky grin.

With that, he launched himself off the bed with almost inhuman speed. “Fuck!”

Twenty-nine had never heard him swear. Overcome with the absurdity, she started to giggle, clamping a hand over her mouth.

He glared at her over his shoulder, standing tense with fists clenched. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know, that’s what’s so funny.” She didn’t dare tell him she hadn’t minded in the least.

“I’m….” He looked defeated. “I must apologize.” He said the word like it was completely foreign to him. It probably was.

The giggles died in her throat. “What? It’s nature, Vulpes. It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t _fine_.”

She sat up, surprised at his reaction. Surely he didn’t take this sort of thing so seriously? “It really is. Haven’t you experienced this? It happens sometimes.” It was also bound to happen with them sleeping so close.

“Yes, but,” he said through a clenched jaw, “it shouldn’t when I promised my friend I wouldn’t touch her inappropriately.” He looked so thoroughly disgusted with himself. He was no better than the men who wagged their cocks at anything that walked by on the Strip, than any of the filthy fiends, than the men who couldn’t control their urges. Control themselves. _The Legion men_ …

Twenty-nine stared at him for a moment, then slowly stood and approached. Vulpes held up a hand. “I’m going to go take a cold shower.”

“Vulpes Inculta.” She stepped up behind him and put her hands atop his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. He stood perfectly still. “It’s OK.” Her voice was quiet, soothing. “You didn’t break your promise, I’d be the first to let you know, all right?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t sleep next to each other if I cannot control my bodily reactions.”

She faltered for a few moments, weighing her options. Weighing the truth. Maybe he’d scoff or throw some insult. Then: “I like waking up and feeling your warmth next to me, Vulpes. I like knowing you’re right there, by my side.” _I like holding you._

He swallowed hard. Her soft words cut deep into something he’d avoided examining too closely. “If that’s what you think,” he said, hesitant.

“Ohh, letting a woman make the decisions now, are we?”

“Don’t you dare start,” he arched a brow as he looked sidelong at her over his shoulder.

She grinned at him in response.

“Fine,” he relented. “But I’m still taking a shower.”

“Good, because you smell. Have at it, spy.” With that, she released him and slapped him on the back before returning to the warm bed.

>> <<

Courier Six’s eyes flickered coldly over Vulpes’ form as he spoke. She did not smile. Twenty-nine couldn’t quite make out what they were saying as she spied on them from around a corner. Vulpes had told her to wait in Freeside while he took care of this small task, but she wanted to be there in case things went sideways. Was she willing to shoot the Courier to protect him? Maybe in the leg. Certainly not to kill.

A tall man with a red beret exited the Lucky 38 just as Vulpes stepped back, having deposited the Mark in Six’s grasp. Courier Six put out her hand to stop the man as he started forward, teeth bared. He came to a stilted halt, fists clenched.

_Fuck fuck shit._

Twenty-nine tensed, fingers wrapping around her gun and slowly easing it from the holster.

Vulpes nodded to them both, then quickly spun on his heel and headed down the stairs.

The man, clearly of the NCR, turned to the Courier, snarling something Twenty-nine couldn’t hear, but he obviously wanted to tear the Frumentarius all sorts of new holes. The Courier shook her head and motioned for him to follow in the opposite direction. Vulpes had already disappeared from sight.

Twenty-nine casually slipped her gun back into the holster and stepped out, leaning against a brick wall. She folded her arms, looking relaxed, waiting for them to pass by.

“…is not in the plan, Boone,” the Courier said. “We’ll worry about that when we get to it.”

“I want first shot at that weasel. One bullet is all I need.”

Twenty-nine’s blood turned to painful trickles of ice. She forced a friendly, self-assured smile and unfolded her arms, giving a little wave. “Hey there, you two need a little protection? New Vegas can be a bit seedy if you haven’t noticed.”

The Courier arched a brow and shook her head, speaking pleasantly but guardedly. “No thanks, we’re fine.”

“You sure? I’ll offer a discount to the famous Courier.”

Courier Six rolled her eyes but smiled amicably. “I’ve got plenty of support with this grumpsickle, thanks,” she gestured a thumb towards Boone, “But I’ll keep you in mind. You look like you can handle yourself.”

Twenty-nine smiled and nodded, giving them a little wave farewell. Even in that brief interaction, she could see why so many had flocked to the Courier’s side.

They moved on by but Twenty-nine didn’t dare follow. She headed back to the Wrangler, but Vulpes was nowhere in sight. Nothing to do but wait.

Just as she began to unstrap her armor, a familiar voice tickled her ear, sending a jolt along her nerves. “I told you to wait here, yet you followed me.”

“Yeah, I had to keep watch over you in case you ran into trouble. Besides, that NCR guy, Boone, clearly wants your head.”

Vulpes stepped around in front of her, arms crossed. “He’s a ranger, so of course he does, but that’s not a concern now that I’ve delivered the Mark. It’s up to the Courier if she wishes to follow through, hopefully sooner rather than later.”

Twenty-nine nodded. There was no way Six wouldn’t try to take down Caesar. Good.

“I have a couple more errands to run. Do you think you can stay here and not get into trouble?”

“Nope,” Twenty-nine smiled. “So I’m coming with you.”

He sighed, resigned to his fate.

<< <<

_{{ “You’re just mad you got the brains and I got the brawn,” she said with a grin._

_His lips made that pinchy downturn he wore when he was particularly irritated. The truth was, he really did want to be in security, but he was too spindly, too frail. He hated bioscience research, but he was so damn good at it. “Go suck a plasma bolt, idiot. And I’m busy, get out of here.”_

_“I’ve got a favor to ask.”_

_He glared at her. “What?”_

_“Can you get me a courser chip?”_

_The small vial he was holding shattered when it hit the countertop. “Are you serious? You’re serious.”_

_“Come on, get it for me. Please?”_

_“No! Of course I won’t get you one.”_

_“Then tell me where they’re located so I can just see it. You know. To look at it. For science.”_

_He stared at her like she grew a second head. “Absolutely not.”_

_“I want to go topside.”_

_He shook his head, laughing, though it sounded hollow, devoid of humor. “Of course you do. You can’t leave well enough alone.”_  
  
_“I don’t think you understand,” she said, planting a hand on the counter as her smile faded, “I’m going to do this with or without you.” Something always crawled under her skin unwanted, a restlessness that scratched at every thought, every movement. She couldn’t stay there a minute, a second longer. Whatever dangers were topside, she needed them. Had to breathe the unfiltered air, see the real sun. Know what it was like not to be trapped with a horde of sycophants._

_“Then fuck right off because I’m not helping you.” How he hated his sister. }}_

“But we _can_ help them, so we _should_.” Twenty-nine folded her arms and glared at Vulpes.

“It’s a waste of time. When the Legion arrives, they’ll all have new lives with no time for such frivolities. Besides, it’s a filthy rat. They’d be better off without it.”

“Ah yes, the Legion. That blonde one with the subtle limp who took a shine to you, do you think the Legion would let him live?”

“I assume not, as he could be a drain on society when he’s older.”

“Do you really believe that?” She stepped up to him, searching his eyes.

“Weakness of the self and the society should be expunged.”

She let out a huff and rolled her eyes. “Do you ever think for yourself or does the Legion do all the thinking for you?”

His upper lip twitched and he stepped forward, clearly annoyed. “And how far has your weakness gotten you?”

She jabbed his chest with a finger. “Pretty far with y-”

With a smirk, he grabbed the offending hand and twisted, pinning her arm behind her back as he pulled forward. Torso pressed to his, she blinked up at him, cheeks turning a delicate and rare shade of pink. Something electric sizzled from her face all the way down to her toes.

His eyes held a glint. “Your weakness will be your downfall, Twenty-nine.” He released her with a smirk.

“Just one weakness? Thanks, Mr. Fox, you flatter me. Now if you don’t mind,” she said, stepping back and straightening her shirt, “I’m going to get that pet rat out of the hole.”

When she was successful, he felt a brief moment of satisfaction as she handed the loathsome creature over to the boy, who beamed with happiness. He would never, ever admit it to her, however.

>> <<

They still hadn’t talked about it. Not directly. Vulpes said he was heading back to the Fort and Twenty-nine simply came along. But there was no way in hell she’d set foot in there again.

They sat on the crest of a rocky hill, watching the blazing red sunset on their meager mats. Something yelped its last in the distance.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, nodding to the sunset.

“I never think about it,” he shrugged.

“You’re missing out if you don’t enjoy the sunsets here. Even if everything tries to kill you between them.”

He huffed a soft laugh.

“There aren’t really sunsets where I’m from,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Is it like a vault?”

“Kind of, but deeper underground and much, much larger. A closed system, with food and water, all of it clean.”

He stared at her. “And you left?”

“I couldn’t breathe there.” She shook her head, gazing upward. “There was no sky. Synthetic daylight, nighttime. Sometimes synthetic people.”

“Synthetic people?”

“See,” she smiled sidelong at him, “I said you wouldn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” his brow arched. He’d heard a great many strange things in his life. Perhaps it was possible, or perhaps she just believed it to be true.

“I’m alive here, Vulpes. For four years, I’ve scrabbled and shot and breathed, even stole a vertibird.”

“You what now?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, no,” he said, leaning closer, “I wish to hear this.”

“It’s a secret, so listen carefully.” She smiled, leaning in close…very close.

His eyes betrayed him, flicking down briefly to her lips.

The pads of her fingers caressed his jaw. Her eyes slipped shut and she touched her lips to his.

He held his breath and froze. She pulled back, opening her eyes and looking at him. “Sorry, I guess you didn’t…” She looked away, pink cheeks awash with embarrassment.

“I-…I promised…” he said, voice strained, as though holding back something important. He looked to her, away and back again, conflicted.

“The promise is over, Vulpes. If you want it to be,” she said quietly, watching his face for a reaction.

His hands unclenched and he reached forward, two fingertips touching her cheekbone. She was surprised at the gesture of tenderness, expecting him instead to bowl her over in excitement. He caressed her cheek up to her ear, then down her jaw. The ticklish digits continued their trek down over her neck, pushing aside her shirt to expose her collarbone. He traced a small scar there, eyes following his own movements.

She felt a warmth easing into her stomach, trickling out to each limb. Wanted him to go faster, touch more, but perhaps he was nervous. She didn’t want to push him.

He flicked one chest armor buckle open, then began tracing his fingers down between her breasts, pushing aside the undershirt.

 _Holy shit._ Twenty-nine’s breath caught. This was really happening.

He splayed his fingers, watching as they pressed slightly into her skin. He raised his eyes and looked at her before leaning down, touching his lips to the delicate skin between her breasts, then started planting kisses upwards to her jaw. Her head tilted back to accept them.

She froze momentarily, unsure how to proceed, before bringing her head down to bite his ear. He flinched with surprise and her lips quirked into a cheeky grin.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” she whispered, nipping once again, this time on his jaw. To be this close, touching, was so very intimate in a way she couldn’t have imagined. And that was even with sleeping next to him for weeks.

He pulled back to observe her before sliding his hands to either side of her face and leaning in. “Gentle? You call that gentle?” His lips met hers in a soft kiss that, despite its mildness, sent tingles all the way down to her toes.

“Do you want gentle?” Her hands alighted on his arms, sliding along, feeling the strength there, the way the muscles bunched and gathered, his hands sliding down and around as he caressed her back.

“I want _you_.” He kissed along her shoulder, pushing the armor and shirt aside. “In whatever way you’ll have me.” It felt like an admission of weakness to him, but it was also the truth. He knew she wouldn’t mock him for it, wouldn’t try to take advantage.

“Yes,” she said, trying to sound confident but it came out with the hint of a squeaky moan.

His hands left her back, circling her waist and pulling her onto his lap, straddling. He kissed her jaw, her neck, his movements picking up speed, urgency. She started to unbuckle his armor with trembling hands.

“Too many buckles,” he half-snarled, tugging at the last of her own fittings. “I want….I want to touch every inch of you.”

“And I want every inch of _you_.”

He groaned low, barely restraining himself from ripping her undershirt in two as he flung her torso armor aside.

She was against him, legs wrapped around his waist, pressed to that bulge he no longer had to hide. Her hand eased up his neck, up into his hair, her other hand unbuckling his belt. She laughed when she realized she’d have to disengage from his lap to get his pants down.

Biting her lip, she ground down against him; he sucked in his breath, eyes damn near rolling to the back of his head. Oh, he’d show her all right….show her just how badly he’d wanted to touch her for weeks. He’d take his time, cherish every sound and movement she made.

“Looks like you’ll finally know what’s under my ‘skirt’,” he said, grinning against her neck.

She laughed and, for a brief moment, so did he - until her hand caressed down the front of his pants.

Twenty-nine clawed at him with the same desperation he felt. The same need. The same emotion. She was his, and his alone. And it pleased him deeply, even through his dazed desire, to think that he was hers.

In no time at all, they were wrapped around each other, moving together, well into the dark Mojave night. She moaned his name, and he hers: her birth name, which she told him in a whisper.

Here was where they belonged, together.

<< >>

She moved quietly, but not silent enough: Vulpes’ eyes snapped open to find her pulling on her clothes. “You better not be leaving,” he said.

Twenty-nine smiled sadly at him. “I’m not coming with you to the Fort, Vulpes.”

He sat bolt upright. He knew this moment was inevitable. “I can protect you.”

She shook her head, pulling on her boots. “You aren’t the problem. I can’t be trapped there, even with you by my side. I’d go mad. But you could…you could come with me. Leave the Legion.” She looked pointedly at him.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I have a duty.” He glanced aside. Doubts had lately pecked away in his brain. Quiet at first, then louder. He’d so far successfully pushed them aside.

She nodded. “I care for you, Vulpes. Surely you know that.” _So much more than I thought I could._

He stood, then wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I do.” This was exactly the sort of thing he wanted to avoid. Being compromised. Being weak. For a brief moment, he considered making her his slave, forcing her to stay. He promptly decided that smacking himself on the head with a sharp rock would be a better option if it came to it.

This was also exactly the sort of thing _she_ wanted to avoid. To have such affection for a man like this? One just learning there was more to life than whatever they violently pounded into his childhood brain? He had such a long way to go. Intolerable.

Twenty-nine clenched her fists. She felt a surge of anger at them both but it didn’t change the outcome. “I don’t want to leave.” She needed to sort herself out; surely she was only caught up in the moment the night prior. Surely he couldn't feel...whatever it was she was feeling. 

“Then don’t,” he said softly. His eyes closed and he pressed his face to the back of her head, inhaling her scent. Something tore at him, clawed at a place he didn’t know he had.

“What will you tell them about your slave?”

“That I killed you,” he said. “They won’t question it.” He wouldn’t be able to send spies to watch out over her; if they knew he’d lied to Caesar they’d both be killed.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Goodbye, Vulpes. I’m going now.” She pulled from his grasp. If she stayed any longer, she wouldn’t leave at all.

“Turn around.”

“No. Goodbye.” And with that, she hefted her pack and trudged forward, in the direction of the New Vegas lights. She didn’t want him to see her tears, have that be the last thing he thought of.

Vulpes wanted to yell a thousand things, threats that she’d regret this, and more. But none of it was true. He knew he could never bring himself to raise a hand to hurt her.

And so, he sank down, eyes closed, unable to watch as she disappeared from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mean to leave a cliffhanger. :>  
> To be continued!


	4. No Such Address, No Such Zone

_{{ He finally realized, almost too late, how easy it would be to go along with her ludicrous notion. Then, he’d finally be rid of her, by her own choice. She believed he’d gotten permission for the outing – just barely – as long as she sent back reports. Still need to keep it secret because the others wouldn’t understand._

_“Here. Take it and let’s get this moving.” His eyes burned like coals as he dropped the Courser chip into her hand. “I’ll tell Father you were successful so don’t fret about that part.” And he’d love it, every minute of it. He couldn’t wait to wipe her name from the birth registry himself._

_She searched his eyes. How had she not seen before now? Still, she nodded. “All right. Thank you.” With that, she deposited it into Security’s prototype pip-boy and stepped up onto the platform._

_Well, this was it. The last moments in the safety of the Institute. She looked around, taking in the sterile scent, the clean walls._

_“There,” he said, tinkering with the nearby computer, “I set your destination. Ready?”_

_“Yep,” she nodded, suddenly awash in a jangle of nerves. “Let’s do this. Goodbye for now, brother o’ mine.”_

_His eyes crinkled and his lips pulled into broad smile as he tapped something on the keyboard. “Goodbye.” He looked the happiest she’d ever seen him._

_As the light filled her vision, she wondered in a panicked haze where he was sending her._

_It was a few days later, nursing a broken leg and arm, when she realized the Courser chip was a fake. }}_

Twenty-nine had hoped Vulpes would follow her, catch up, and tell her he was leaving the Legion. That they’d go somewhere, together, away from that ever-present menace. But the entire Wasteland was full of danger, and it’s not like they could live a life of safety and peace. Nobody could.

And so, in the days that followed, she returned to Freeside, listless and melancholy. She took up protection work again and had a few takers. Courier jobs looked to be picking up again, so she submitted her name for the duty, hoping to keep busy, keep out of her head. And yet…

Vulpes Inculta lingered on her mind. So much so, that when she saw the NCR Ranger beret, she decided to follow that Boone fellow as he made his way to the Wrangler. Courier Six was nowhere in sight.

Twenty-nine sauntered into the Wrangler and waved at Francine, keeping one eye on Boone as he entered one of the hotel rooms and shut the door. She followed up the stairs. Francine, a wise businesswoman, disappeared into the back room.

Glancing around and seeing no observers, Twenty-nine pressed her ear to the door.

“-is bullshit. Why didn’t she take me instead?” came Boone’s distraught voice.

“Aw, because she knows you’d go batty on ‘em at first sight, buddy. Come on, you see a Legion skirt, you want to kick ‘em in the nuts, I know how it is,” came a female voice.

“Just the two of them!” Boone was pacing now, evident by the thump of heavy boots back and forth.

“You’ve seen Veronica punch, they’ll be fine. They’re both sneaky as all get out and with those stealthboys? Pfft. Here, have a drink why don’tcha? Take the edge off. Besides…” the sound of a cap popping off a bottle, probably alcohol from the slight slur in the woman’s words, “You’re just mad they’re gonna off Caesar without cha. Besides, Lily and Arcade won’t be far.”

“They should’ve travelled with her,” he snarled.

“Too easy to track those weirdos, you know that. Come on, Boone, lay off it and go sharpen your knives or something.”

Twenty-nine straightened and pulled quietly from the door. Courier Six and someone named Veronica were making their way to Caesar’s camp to kill him? When did they leave? Probably not long ago if Boone was still ranting about it.

She had go. Had to protect Vulpes. Courier Six was known to have a ridiculously expansive arsenal, so there was no telling what hell they’d unleash on the camp. 

Yes, it was deserved. Yes, it was what Twenty-nine wanted for the Legion. But not Vulpes. _Her_ Vulpes. Life without him in these last few days had been colorless, dismal; she missed his dry wit, the tenderness of his touches, and most of all, the soft feeling of nearness, of _home_. She _needed_ him. Couldn’t imagine a life without him. Trying to cut him out of her life so abruptly had been a gross miscalculation.

The realization struck her like a wrench to the head.

With that, she hastily packed up her things and headed out. She wouldn’t try to stop Courier Six, but she would sneak in and lure Vulpes out. Somehow. He met regularly with Caesar, so there was a good chance he’d be in the tent during an attack.

Maybe she could steal a stealthboy from the Courier’s friends. No telling how long they’d linger in the room, though. There were no stealthboys in stock at the local stores and she’d never been able to get Mick and Ralph to open up about the “special” wares she suspected they had.

No, she had to leave now and figure out a plan on the way there.

<< <<

The recruits kept well away from Master Inculta. Ever since his return from meeting with Courier Six, his manner had been surly and sour. Even Legate Lanius commented on his attitude.

Had it not been for that stupid helmet, he would’ve stabbed Lanius in the eye. Maybe he still could, if he angled the knife right…

No, no, bad idea in the long term, even if satisfying in the short. Besides, the Legate was taking his leave of the camp for a little while, on some destructive errand.

Vulpes’ tent was overly quiet at night, no pesky whispers. No one stealing a can of beans (directly from his hands!) so she could eat it. No long talks about the future of the Mojave and the interesting people in it. No warmth, soft and hard in all the places that mattered, when his arm was around her.

He stared at the bed, clenching and unclenching his fists. _How dare she..._ and the worst part was: she was right. There was no life for her with the Legion, no matter what concessions he made, because there was no leaving this life for many long years. Caesar would never let his best Frumentarius retire early just to live it up with a woman.

_That woman_. She opened his mind to questions, made him burn with anger when he couldn’t find the solutions. Challenged him openly, teased him with twinkling eyes. He couldn’t even blame her for seduction the night they spent entirely together because he was in on it. Wanted it. Wanted her in every way, to know her fully and deeply. Her laughter and touch, all her secrets and thoughts and curiosities.

Vulpes picked up a footlocker and hurled it against a metal bin, then picked the footlocker up again and started smashing it repeatedly against the ground. No one dared enter his tent, despite the raucous noise.

It was _weakness_. Terrible, human weakness. And it would never pass, never go away because he….

He didn’t want it to.

Resigned, he prepared his travel pack. He had to see her. 

Lucius caught up to Vulpes as he headed for the exit gate. “Vulpes! Wait a moment.”

“I don’t have time. Important mission.” He’d always found Lucius tolerable and obedient to Caesar’s will, which was the most important trait amongst the praetorian guard.

“You’ve been acting strangely, I wanted to see how you were. What vexes you?”

Vulpes’ brows raised. Lucius was observant although probably half the camp heard him assault the metal bin. “Nothing. A plan did not go according to my design, which I must now rectify.”

“Did you tell Caesar?”

“No, I prefer to fix it first, then report.”

“Ah,” Lucius glanced out to the camp at large, then back to Vulpes. “Tell me, what of that slave woman you had, the one from the arena?”

“She is dead by my hand.”

“A pity, she looked a good ride.”

Years of practice allowed Vulpes to school his face into a neutral position. “Indeed. Now, if there’s nothing else...?”

“Mmm, one thing. It was quite a debacle when Glinting Blade brought her in. I thought I saw you say something to her just before she challenged you.”

Vulpes eyes narrowed. “Did you? _Thought_ you saw something? Are you a Frumentarius now, Lucius?”

“No, but I have served this long protecting our Caesar by being a quick study, Vulpes. What did you say to the woman?”

“Why ask now, hmm? Concerned I didn’t deliver the Mark to the Courier?”

“No, no, I’m certain you did. But you’ve never taken a slave before and you knew her name.”

He kept his voice smooth, did not betray his impatience. “Lucius, I am not just _a_ Frumentarius but _the_ Frumentarius, so of course I knew her name. I make it my business to know as much as I can about the filthy degenerates of the Mojave. Now, if you’re done implying I’ve been compromised, I have work to do.”

“Right, yes, of course. Just remember that Caesar puts great faith in you and your abilities. He trusts you. But I will not let anyone or anything harm him.” He held Vulpes’ gaze, raising his chin slightly. A clear challenge.

“Nor shall I. Vale. True to Caesar.” With that, Vulpes spun on his heel and stepped out of the camp. Not too fast, not too slow. Measured. Controlled. He didn’t wish to betray the surging urgency he felt.

>> >>

Maybe if she caught up to the Courier, she could ask her to spare Vulpes’ life. No. Not ask. _Tell_.

She queried passing caravans – none had seen hide nor hair of Courier Six and her companion. Perhaps the pair took a different route, more circuitous. That would be the smart thing to do, throw off the spies. Vulpes’ spies, most likely.

Exhausted, she slumped down against a boulder to take a brief rest. She tilted her head back. Had a few minutes passed? Hopefully not too long.

Something cold and sharp pressed to her throat and her eyes snapped open.

“Don’t move,” came a growling, familiar voice. Boone.

She fought the urge to jolt.

“Why are you following her?”

“Who her?” she said, playing dumb. Too dumb.

“Six,” he snarled, emphasizing his annoyance by pulling the knife tighter to her throat.

She flipped through various answers, trying to think of an adequate lie. This was not, unfortunately, a skill she possessed, so she opted for a truncated version of the truth. “I’m actually not. I’m trying to get to the Fort before she does to rescue someone before she kills Caesar.”

“Who?” The pressure on her throat didn’t let up.

“Someone…trapped there.”

“Six doesn’t kill slaves.”

“I’m well aware of that but bullets don’t discriminate, now do they?”

“Why didn’t you rescue them before?”

“Because he-…” why indeed? “Because I keep having to save his sorry ass and that’s apparently just my lot in life. He made incredibly bad choices and I made a big one by leaving his side, and now I need to be there, OK?” Her voice lilted at the end with frustration. She sighed softly.

Slowly, agonizingly, the knife pulled away from her throat. She let out a breath but stayed where she was; no need to temp him into a stabbing marathon.

“I want to see the Legion destroyed,” she said quietly. “They need to be dismantled. I won’t bother Six, I’ll just get in and out. How did you know where I was going, anyway?”

He stepped around in front of her, face unreadable, arms folded. Damn those shades. He might be handsome if he wasn’t such a dick.

“I heard you thumping away from the hotel room. Not as quiet as you think you are.”

“Yeah?” she glared up at him, “and _you_ aren’t very good at following orders.”

“If I was, I’d still be with the NCR. But now I have a problem.”

“Which is?” Still glaring.

“To believe you or not. I don’t like unknown variables.”

She shrugged. “OK, let me put it to you this way: I won’t be dissuaded. I’m going to the Fort and I’m bringing my friend back out.”

One brow arched above the shades. “Friend?”

“Yes,” she hissed, “my friend,” _and more_.

“He’s not a slave, is he?” It wasn’t really a question.

“I-…you know what? I don’t have to tell you anything.” She clambered to her feet.

“They’re all monsters. Whatever he told you-”

“You’re not my keeper, Mr. Boone, so just fuck right off. The way I see it, we have two options. We can travel together, so you can protect Six and I can rescue my friend, or we go our separate ways.”

He tilted his head. “The third option is to kill you.”

“You aren’t a cold-blooded murderer, I can tell that.”

“The Legion _is_. Anything else is a lie.”

“I can’t do anything about that. Now what’s it going to be?”

He grunted and walked a few feet away, then reappeared with his pack. “Fine. Let’s go.”

<< >>

Cottonwood Cove’s personalities grated on his already overworked nerves. Aurelius of Phoenix gave him a nervous nod and generally ignored his presence, per their typical interaction. He preferred it that way.

Canyon Runner gave him a friendly wave. “Fresh crop, want to see ‘em?” he said amicably, gesturing with his thumb to the holding pen.

Vulpes gave a glance over to the enclosure, its downtrodden inhabitants sitting, defeated, and he felt a surge of revulsion. Where did that feeling come from? “No,” he said, stalking on by. _Twenty-nine could have been in there at any point. Collar around her neck._

His jaw clenched so hard his teeth hurt. He didn’t want to think about it.

After changing clothes out of his Legion uniform, he headed up the long canyon.

Two forms caught his attention in the distance and he kept a hand near his pistol. Always best to be careful. 

_Courier Six_. He’d know that form from a hundred yards away.

The woman she was with looked pleasant enough, though her robes were unusual for the heat. Likely hiding an unusual weapon or five.

Well, Caesar wanted to meet with the Courier and soon he’d get his wish.

As they passed, Vulpes’ nerves tensed. He watched her every step, every subtle movement.

The other woman looked at him, curious, and gave a little wave. “Hi there!”

Courier Six grabbed her hand and pulled it down, whispering something. Probably reminding her that anyone heading safely out of Cottonwood Cove was with the Legion.

Vulpes nodded to them both, holding Six’s eyes for a moment as they passed. She did not smile.

He let out a breath, glad to get some distance between them as he listened cautiously for her to turn or her steps to slow. He continued on without faltering and couldn’t help but feel that he just barely escaped an incredibly dangerous scenario. If she wanted Caesar’s assistance, killing the head of the Frumentarii, even with the Mark, wasn’t the best way to get it. The stony look in her eyes, however, told him that made absolutely no difference.

Vulpes paused to turn and watch the two figures descend the canyon. She didn’t want the Legion’s help. She never did.

He should stop her. Still had time to protect Caesar.

He stood there for a full five minutes before continuing to trek away from the Cove.

>> >>

Boone didn’t talk much, which was fine by Twenty-nine. He was polite, though, offering her water or food from time to time. Maybe in another life, he and Vulpes might have been friends. 

Nah.

Twenty-nine rested her elbows on an outcropping and lifted the binoculars. “Just one person. Looks like a merc. Not a-” Her voice died in her throat. Then, quietly: “Vulpes?”

Boone stiffened behind her and she dropped the binoculars, dashing out towards the figure at top speed. Her legs quickly screamed their burning exhaustion, but she kept going, faster than she ever ran in her life.

Vulpes halted in place, unsure of what he was seeing. A mirage? No, no that was definitely Twenty-nine. He shrugged off his pack so it wouldn’t weigh him down and ran towards her.

They collided in a monumental embrace, his arms wrapping around her, hers around him and he lifted her up. Tears welled in her eyes, trickled down her cheeks.

“Vulpes, I didn’t-, I’m sorry, I-” she gasped, trying to catch her breath.

He grabbed the sides of her face and pressed his lips to hers, hard. Relief washed over him, especially since she was just as pleased to be in his embrace.

He pulled back, smoothed the hair from her sweaty brow. He smiled fondly. “Foolish profligate, as if you could-”

A shot rang out, the sound momentarily confusing them both as something thumped into his shoulder. He staggered back, gripping the wound, blood seeping out between his fingers. He dropped to his knees.

“Boone, _no_!” Twenty-nine spun on her heel and stepped in front of Vulpes, arms outspread. There was no way she could out-shoot Boone at that distance without a sniper rifle. Even with one.

“Move!” he shouted.

“No! I won’t let you! Not this one!”

Vulpes grimaced, looking up at her back as he struggled to stand to no avail. “Twenty-nine…step aside.”

“Fuck no!” she screeched.

Another shot rang out, bullet displacing the dirt at her feet.

Vulpes’ strained voice called out. “Leave her alone, Ranger. It’s me you w-want!”

“Stand aside,” Boone called from his perch. “I don’t want to have to kill you, too.”

“You won’t! You’re not a murderer, Boone!”

“But this son of a bitch _is_! Now MOVE!”

Vulpes tugged on the back of her armor with his good hand, wincing with the movement. “Leave, Twenty-nine. Less Than More Than. Leave. _Please_.”

“I won’t,” she said, and turned. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, shielding his body from Boone’s aim. “I won’t leave again, I’m sorry.” She rested her forehead against his. “I’m so sorry.”

Vulpes panted, grimacing, as blood dribbled down his arm and through the fingers clutching the wound. They waited. Twenty-nine put a hand behind his head, the other at his back, holding him close. The Mojave was silent save for the steady _pap pap_ of blood dripping onto the ground.

At last, when she dared to hazard a glance back, Boone was gone.

Fortunately, both of them carried ample first aid supplies. Vulpes bit down on a belt while Twenty-nine expertly fished out the bullet. She stabbed him with a stimpak, then another, without asking his permission. He’d get over it.

It was too dangerous to rest out in the open where so many Legionaries traveled, so she half-dragged him off the road to a ruined metal shed. He rested his back against the only standing wall and looked at her. “Why travel with the Ranger?”

“Jealous?” she smirked at him as she finished double-checking the tightness of the bandage. “He caught me going after the Courier, and I convinced him to travel with me so I could keep an eye on him. I hoped to get to you before she got to the Fort and Caesar.”

His eyes left hers and he raised his good arm, pointing to something over her shoulder. “She’s there.”

Twenty-nine turned and saw two thick smoke plumes far in the distance, over the approximate location of the Fort. Then another, lighter in color. It formed the shape of a mushroom.

“Wow.”

They stared at the rising smoke for a while before Twenty-nine nestled in next to him, on his good side.

“And why were you out and about, did you come to look for me?” Her brows rose in question.

“Yes, actually. I couldn’t bear it a moment longer there without you by my side.”

“I-…Oh.” She looked away, cheeks darkening to a remarkable shade of pink. “Well, isn’t that romantic.” She cleared her throat, feeling his eyes on her. “Well, what about….you know.”

“Caesar?” He took a deep breath, setting aside a water bottle. “If the Courier wanted to destroy the Legion, killing Caesar won’t do it in the short term. The Legate wasn’t at the Fort and is not due to appear for a couple more days. If Caesar couldn’t withstand the onslaught of the Courier and her compatriot, that’s on him.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I meant about you. How are you doing….I guess, with all this.” She gestured vaguely.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know. My life has always been dedicated to the Legion, I don’t even remember a time before it.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Snippets. Feelings, flashes of images. It wasn’t a good life, and the Legion gave me purpose.” He opened his eyes and looked at her, searching for something. “I suppose that’s done now.”

“You didn’t do anything, so I’m sure you could return if you wanted to.” She glanced aside.

“ _Really_ , Twenty-nine? Do I seem so fickle?” His head tilted up and brow arched imperiously as he peered at her.

“I’d smack you, but you’re half broken as it is.”

He snorted and put his good arm around her, despite the discomfort it gave his bandaged shoulder. They’d need to visit the medical center to be sure the stimpaks didn’t jolt his bones into healing the wrong way. It was unlikely but did happen from time to time. Another reason he didn’t like them.

“It feels strange,” he admitted after a while. “I always had a plan, which was to serve Caesar and the Legion, and it felt right. Natural. The strong subsume or destroy the weak and thus the whole advances. Each day and every action had a purpose. Now, I will wake up and not know what to do with myself.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’ll watch out for you. I can’t give you purpose, you have to find that yourself, but maybe we can…I don’t know…find it together? I’ve never really had one, either. Not since I left.”

He turned his head and smiled very slightly at her. His eyes flickered with affection. “I find your terms agreeable.” 

They sat there for a time before he spoke once more. “Tell me, my dear, why did you become a courier? It seems a most dangerous profession, perhaps almost as much as guard-for-hire.”

She stared up at the darkening sky. “Yes, it’s dangerous. I wanted, well,” she paused to glance at him, then looked back to the horizon. “I needed to understand how letters got delivered, I wanted to ensure the reports I sent back to my previous home arrived.”

“Did they?” He watched her, curious.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before answering. “I don’t...I don’t think so. I hired a courier to check the bin where they were deposited, and the ones I sent earlier were still there. Maybe they were waiting to pick them up, though.” It was a handy lie she liked to tell herself. A sharp pang of disappointment stabbed her right through the abdomen. 

“Who was supposed to get them?” He couldn’t imagine who she’d want to write to, never having mentioned a family or spouse.

“The security division, where I worked. I was to send a report every six months or so, and that was the payment, if you will, for wandering topside for a while.” _Guess that was a trick, too_.  
  
“Security? That explains why you’re such a good shot,” he gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

“Thanks, that was my favorite part of training. As for the other…I haven’t sent any reports in a year now,” she said, trying not to gnaw at the sore memory. Better to make new ones. “Get some rest,” she said, patting his chest, “you’ve lost a lot of blood. I’ll keep watch.” With that, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

He nodded, drifting off into a physically uncomfortable sleep, though he felt, for the first time in a while, that everything was once again correct with Twenty-nine at his side.

>> >>

They travelled with a small caravan for a while, moving at a slower pace, owing to his state. Eventually, they reached the medical center, then Freeside. 

Word of Caesar’s demise had already reached the New Vegas area by the time they arrived. NCR patrons were celebrating with drunken dancing and yells in the streets.

“The fools,” Vulpes sneered as he peered out the window to watch two sloshed NCR soldiers collide in a merry embrace. “The Legate is substantially more bloodthirsty than Caesar, and now he isn’t held back in any meaningful way. I don’t think the Courier knows what she’s unleashed. If he takes New Vegas, he’ll kill everyone in it.”

Twenty-nine nodded. “We should leave quickly. Maybe make our way west? If we head due east, some in the Legion might recognize you. Although… if we head west, we’ll be in land controlled by the NCR. You _do_ have a very distinctive voice, Mr. Fox.”

He paused, considering, then nodded. “I have several caps stashes in the area, along with weapons. Let’s gather them, stock up, and figure out our plan on the way out.”

Twenty-nine held up a hand. “Wait. What if we stayed? Helped the NCR hold Hoover Dam?” It was a big ask, she knew that.

His eyes narrowed. “Surely you don’t hold a rosy view of the NCR, Twenty-nine. And as much as I would like to give you everything you desire, that is _not_ something I can do.” He’d seen what they did to Legion soldiers, their remarkable hypocrisy. No, he may not actively work to destroy them anymore, but neither would he lift a hand to aid them and their bloated, indecisive, and corrupt leadership.

She nodded. He left the Legion, that was enough. “I understand. I just don’t want to see New Vegas fall. I like the idea of it being a free region, you know?”

He didn’t truly agree with that idea. New Vegas could barely hold against incoming fiends, let alone the Legion bowling down the doors. The NCR might work more slowly but without some kind of interference, they’d eventually wear New Vegas down. Seep in through the cracks. New Vegas needed a true leader, not the peculiar and disengaged Mr. House.

“Regardless,” he said, “wait here while I tie up a few loose ends.”

“Are you joking right now? We just got here,” she said, resting her fingers on his chest. She pushed gently and he let himself be led backwards against the bed. When his calves hit the edge, he sat. At least the Atomic Wrangler didn’t usually have bedbugs.

“No, there are, ah, quite a few loose ends,” he was quickly becoming distracted as she loosened his tie and unbuttoned the neck of his shirt. “I don’t want random frumentarii seeking me out for instructions.”

“Mmm? Do go on,” she grinned halfway to a leer, undoing the front of her shirt though not removing it. 

His eyes flicked between her hands and her face. “What are you…?”

“See, Mr. Fox, I’ve been thinking. You’re still recovering, right? Hmm?”

He nodded dumbly just before she gently pushed him onto his back. 

She leaned over him, then grabbed his jaw. “So, I think I should show you how much I’ve missed you. Very carefully.” She touched her lips to his for a brief, tender moment before bequeathing a ferocious, hungry kiss. His hands came up to grasp her waist, but she released his jaw and grabbed his wrists, pinning them beside his head.

He blinked at her, stunned.

She nuzzled at his neck, kissing there before nipping his earlobe. Her teeth caught his collar and pulled it aside, giving her more access to the sensitive skin of his collar bone, where she planted soft kisses. She grinned, then lightly bit his nipple over the shirt. He flinched, peering down at her. Her kisses continued their route downward, between his pecs and to his stomach, which she paused to nuzzle. “I have to admit, I really liked that skirt you wore…” Her hands released his wrists and slid down his arms a little as she tugged on his belt with her teeth.

His entire body was heating up; every nerve started singing. “O-oh?”

She held his gaze, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I wanted to slide my hands up your strong thighs, under that skirt,” she paused to plant a kiss just above his tented pants, “and find out what you had for me. Maybe I’d sit on your lap and show you what kind of woman I am.”

He let out a noise that couldn’t possibly have been a whimper.

“Don’t move,” she warned before sliding off him and undoing his belt and pants, then yanking them down to his knees.

He watched her, utterly entranced, but looked away with a little shame when she grinned triumphantly at the rock-hard prize freed from its constraints.

“Well, well, I’m flattered.”

“Very funny,” he grumbled, avoiding eye contact, though he let out an audible gasp when her hand found him with a gentle caress. Then another.

She stepped back and shucked off her pants and underwear with such speed that his brain couldn’t quite keep up with what was happening. With that, she sauntered back up to him and crawled onto the bed, taking his wrists in her hands once more and pinning him there, hips hovering tantalizingly above his. “I really did miss you,” she said quietly, “in every way.” He stared up at her, captivated and painfully aroused. “Can I show you one way I missed you?”

“Yes,” he said, the word sliding into a sigh of anticipation. He was at her mercy so easily.

As she sunk down on him, he realized something very important: never in his life did he think he’d allow someone to pin him down and have their way with him but here he was. As his head tilted back and lips parted, he knew beyond a doubt that as long as it was Twenty-nine in control, he…he….

_Loved_ it.

>> <<

Twenty-nine took one last look at the dilapidated walls on the outskirts of Freeside. She’d come to like them, with their storied history and various marks. The New Vegas region never felt like home, but neither was it unwelcoming. 

Vulpes was busy fishing a small box out of a pile of rubble, grumbling with annoyance as he did so.

“I thought about leaving my gun here,” Twenty-nine said as she watched him struggle. “I built it, you know. One of a kind. They told me the fancy laser exterior could never contain plasma energy but I modified it and proved them wrong. I like the heft of a plasma weapon better, you see.”

“Why leave it?” he grunted, shoving his arm further in the crevice.

“New start, I guess,” she shrugged. “Hey, that looks painful. Need help?” She leaned over, looking down the hole.

“No, I almost have it…Ah!” He straightened, a tiny, victorious smile touching his lips as he held up the box. “NCR funds, in case we need them.”

She grinned and folded her arms. “Now how in the world did you come by that?”

Vulpes opened his mouth to answer but another voice filled the silence.

“Yes,” came the rough voice behind them. “How indeed?”

They both turned to find Lucius, pistol raised, glowering at them. Half his face was freshly scarred; untended radiation burns most likely. The patched-together mercenary armor hid his Legion affiliation but not his malice.

Vulpes, eyes cold, once again opened his mouth to speak but Lucius cut him off.

“Because I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions about you, Inculta. You left and the Courier arrived. She fired off a radiation bomb, did you know that? She killed our Caesar. _My_ Caesar!” He started to tremble with rage.

“Obviously you weren’t doing your job well enough, then, praetorian,” Vulpes purred, unable to help himself, even knowing the stakes.

“You piece of dung. You filth. You _profligate_!” He jabbed the gun towards Vulpes’ head, expression unhinged.

“Hey there, can we just take a moment to talk-” Twenty-nine began, so Lucius turned the gun on her.

“Shut up, whore! You’re the one who started this! Without you, Inculta never would have been tempted!” His eyes were wild as he looked between Twenty-nine and Vulpes. His fingers trembled, especially the one over the trigger.

“ _Lucius_ , look at me,” Vulpes said, voice calm, pleasant. “We can make a-”

A shot rang out and Lucius’ head very nearly exploded. Droplets of blood sprinkled over Vulpes and Twenty-nine as Lucius’ body fell to the earth with a lifeless thump.

Up on a ridge of rubble, Boone and Courier Six stood watching. Boone slowly lowered his sniper rifle a few inches but gave no indication of acknowledgement. Six gave a little nod to them both, then grabbed Boone’s arm, indicating it was time to go. She had to tug a couple of times. At last, they disappeared behind the debris.

“I think,” Twenty-nine said with a quiet, quavering voice as she wiped some blood off her cheek, “that’s our cue to leave Vegas.”

And so it was that Vulpes Inculta, former head of the Frumentarii, soon travelled northeast with Twenty-nine, in the hopes of forging a new life together. They joined a large caravan, protecting it from fiends and eventually from raiders, along with fending off all manner of strange Wasteland creatures.

The pair was inseparable and grew to love each other with a ferocity that caused many an envious glance. Their adventures, like so many in the Wasteland, would become fodder for tales told around campfires.

But that’s another story.

< The End >

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: Courier Six, to Boone: “You can shoot ONE legionary, as a treat.”
> 
> Bonus 2: Caesar: "So did she have curves in all the right places?"  
> Vulpes: "She was soft and hard in all the right places."  
> Caesar: "Whut"
> 
> OK, there it is, the ending! I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading. :)


End file.
